I have. I went searching for some good sailing this weekend, and something unusual found me. It wasn't the Cairns, but they were magical in the dawn light. Can you see the amazing structure? Who are these people? No. And it wasn't the rollicking sail over that took us through the Fox Island Thoroughfare. We ditched a notion to go into Winter Harbor when the boat rose to above 7 knots and just kept on going Eastward. But that wasn't it either, that sail in fact, all 24 NM, one tack, happens every few seasons on Penobscot Bay for us.

It happened Sunday morning leaving Merchant Row and unfurling sails. With a NOAA forecast of 5 to 10 SW, I thought I'd give the light air a try and my wife is very generous when it comes to my passion for sailing.

On Eastern Penobscot Bay, I couldn't see any wind. Truth is, I have to see some wind for my old boat to sail well enough to suit me. This usually happens at around 5 knots. But riding the long coast of the diesel, then shut down, I watched the sails fill loosely as the telltales ironed to the genoa and streamed aft from main and mizzen. I aimed for big Vinalhaven Island across the bay. The ebb was now full on flowing out of the bay. This area is one of the few we sail where the current runs pretty briskly.

Then I noticed we stopped slowing down and the knotmeter settled in the 3 knt area. I also noticed the telltales, while sagging slightly, were still nicely ironed on the genoa, mains were nicely fluttering aft. Odd sensation surrounded by such glossy windless water. So we sailed on past many lobster buoys and toggles streaming in our direction on the strong current. Next trimming got speed through the water in the 4 knot range and I could see a current of a knot and a half was moving us even better over the ground. It was then I guessed the extra knot and a half was the wind I was seeing on the sails if not on the water.

And then with the bow still headed toward Vinalhaven, the GPS track sighted over my compass was just clearing the seaward side of the island. Nice!

Things just lined up and it's still a hard situation to describe. I thought of taking some pictures, but there was nothing that would have given the feeling.

Mile after mile as we easily steered up and over large regular glossy swells from saturdays SW winds out at sea, lobster buoys streamed and rose nearby only to go gently under water as the swells past. It wasn't until we put Brimstone Island to seaward when the big swells finally left us. Inside Hurricane Sound, we anchored for lunch on an unnamed island and furled all the sails. With a dark sky ahead, we motored home, I had no more desire to sail.

It was a 52 NM loop of Vinalhaven Island in 30 hours. It was remarkable.

And on those Cairns. I studied them closely and started to think I saw some goo between the rocks. Just as I was getting ready to leave the island, I could no longer bear not to know. I went back and touched a rock. It was loose! It didn't tumble, it was well fitted and I slowly removed my fingers.